


It's the little things that remind me of you.

by silver_sun



Series: writer in a drawer round two [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:43:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_sun/pseuds/silver_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said breakfast in bed was supposed to be romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the little things that remind me of you.

**Title:** It's the little things that remind me of you.   
**Pairing/s** : Jack/Ianto, although if more of a friendship fic that anything else, mentions of past Ianto/Lisa.   
**Spoilers:** Series one to Countrycide.   
**Rating:** PG    
**Word count:** Edited like crazy to get it to exactly 500 words.   
**Summary:** Who ever said breakfast in bed was romantic?   
**Prompts used:** "I think I saw a porno like this once." and a breakfast food. Written for writerinadrawer practice round 

 

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“I think I saw a porno like this once,” Jack says conversationally, placing a tray down on Ianto’s bedside table. “Two men, a nice big bed…”

“Well unless it involved bruised ribs.” Sitting up with a groan, Ianto looks at the bowl on the tray with some distaste, before adding sharply. “And what appears to be porridge, I really don’t think it could have been all that similar.” 

“I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“Well I don’t need cheering up,” Ianto snaps, ignoring Jack’s sulky tone. 

It had been Jack’s idea to stay the night, to keep Ianto company after what had happened at Brynblaidd. Ianto’s grateful for that, he really is, it’s just that he hadn’t expected, or wanted Jack to bring him breakfast in bed. 

“So, how do you like your porridge?” Jack holds a spoon of sugar over one of the bowls.

“I don’t, and anyway I’m not hungry. I’ll just have coffee.” Ianto reaches for the mug, getting halfway before his injured ribs start to protest.

“You should try to eat something.” Jack hands Ianto the coffee before he further aggravates his injuries.

“Why? I don’t normally bother with breakfast.” 

"I thought I told you that you should eat properly" 

"No, you told me to eat more vegetables. Nobody eats vegetables for breakfast," Ianto says irritably. 

Sitting down on the end of the bed, Jack watches Ianto for a moment before asking, "So you really don’t eat anything for breakfast?"

"No, just coffee." Ianto hadn't expected, and certainly doesn’t appreciate, getting the third degree about what he does or doesn't have for breakfast.

"Your coffee might be the best in Wales, but it’s not food."

Ianto smiles faintly, but doesn't answer. He used to eat breakfast, him and Lisa. It had always been a bit of a mad rush trying to get dressed, make coffee and eat at the same time. So at weekends they'd always made a point of having an unhurried breakfast, sometimes in bed, sometimes just sat around in their dressing gowns on the sofa, it had been their little piece of heaven.

Now even attempting to have breakfast brings back so many painfully happy memories that he can’t bear to put himself through it on a daily basis. You didn't, couldn't, to Ianto' s way of thinking spend the best part of three years with somebody without having dozens small things become so associated with them. Things that were so much a part of who they were, that it hurts to see, taste, touch or hear those things knowing that you will never again share those thing with them. 

Closing his eyes, Ianto wonders, if one day it will ever get any easier.

"What's wrong?" Jack sounds concerned, “If you’re in pain I can call Owen, get him over here.”

Ianto shakes his head. "No, it’s just…" He doesn't want to be sharing this with anyone, not yet, and maybe not ever. "It's nothing, I'm not a morning person that's all." 


End file.
